


One Blow

by La_Temperanza



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Dubious Consent, M/M, PWP, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-04
Updated: 2012-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 18:59:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/422102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/La_Temperanza/pseuds/La_Temperanza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I told you I could take you apart with less than that," Merlin replies calmly, as if using any sort of sorcery against the Crown Prince of Camelot isn't complete treason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Blow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marguerite_26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marguerite_26/gifts).



> Written for a prompt at marguerite-26's [First Times Fest](http://marguerite-26.livejournal.com/682557.html?thread=13258813#t13258813)

“Do you remember what you said when we first met, Arthur?”

Even though Arthur has been trained since birth on how steel one's nerves against sudden noises, he still jumps slightly at the unexpected sound of Merlin's voice. How could his manservant bumble through the forest so badly--that all game within the square radius knew they were being hunted and ran--and yet manage to hide undetected in the shadows of Arthur's chambers? "Merlin, where the hell have you been? If I have to sit through all the boring speeches at these banquet dinners, so do you--"

"You said you could take me apart with one blow," Merlin continues, completely ignoring the question, and Arthur sighs. Over the years, he's learned to recognize the different nuances in Merlin's speaking in relation to his moods.

How Merlin tends to babble incessantly when he's nervous, his ears as red as the rest of his blushing face. How he laughs like he's downed three pints of the headiest ale when he's excited, his giddiness contagious if one wasn’t too careful. How every word seems like a struggle to get out in the open every time he's grieving and doesn't want anyone to know it.

Even how his voice starts off as soft and pleading, but transforms into a low rumble when he calls out Arthur's name over and over in the Prince's royal bed each night.

So Arthur recognizes Merlin's current tone all too well: It's Merlin's "I'm mad at you but I'm not going to tell you why I'm mad at you because you should know why I'm mad at you" tone, and obviously one of Arthur's least favorites. "Come on then, stop sulking and just tell me what's wrong already." Arthur sighs, pouring himself a goblet of wine and figuring it's going to be a long night. "Is this about what I said to the other knights at practice?"

"You told them I was weak, Arthur!" Merlin shouts, raising his voice for the first time the conversation started. "You told them I couldn't defend myself!"

"...You know, sometimes I wonder if you really are that incredibly stupid." Arthur takes a swig of his wine, shaking his head in disbelief. " What was I supposed to tell them, _Mer_ lin? That you, who look like you can be knocked over by a gust of summer breeze, are actually some sort of powerful sorcerer? Surely I don't need to remind you that magic is still banned in this kingdom, and if my father ever found out, even you wouldn't be able to defend yourself."

"...You have no idea, do you Arthur? I've defended _you_ well enough all these years, haven't I?” Clenching his fists tightly, Merlin breathes in deeply to before speaking again. “Now, do you remember; you said, 'I can take you apart with one blow', and what did I say back?"

Arthur rolls his eyes, in no mood for such games as he takes another sip. "I don't see the point--"

The goblet shoots out of Arthur's hand, clanging loudly as it hits the stone floor. He immediately goes for the hilt of his sword, but halts when he sees the shimmering gold in Merlin's eyes. It's not the first time he's seen his manservant use his powers (and he secretly shivers with a mixture of excitement and awe at every chance he does), but it's the first time he's had Merlin's magic used on him directly. "What do you think you’re--"

"I told you I could take you apart with less than that," Merlin replies calmly, as if using any sort of sorcery against the Crown Prince of Camelot isn't complete treason. He steps forward, arm still unstretched, and Arthur feels himself being forced back towards the bed. He tries to fight it, but his feet are acting like they have a mind of their own. "Merlin, I'm warning you..."

"What do you have to be scared of, Arthur?" Merlin asks with that damn cheeky smile. "I'm just a weak idiot who can't defend himself, remember?"

"Mer--" The sensation of lips hungrily ensnaring his own cuts off the rest of Arthur's words, and his eyes widen as his clothing begins to strip itself away from his body. Invisible hands roam up and down every inch of his skin, fingertips dancing against the planes of his body, sometimes pressing down hard enough to leave bruises. A voice in the back of his mind screams that this is unnatural and should stop immediately, but the pleasure building up inside is quickly weakening any conviction he might have against it.

As if knowing his thoughts, Merlin hoarsely whispers, "I would never use my magic to hurt you, Arthur. Only to do things like this."

Something very much like a wet and willing mouth kisses at Arthur's jaw, and he's pushed down to a lying position on the bed as the ethereal mouth trails down lower to suck and bite at his neck. Arthur can no longer help himself; he moans as his trousers are the last of his outfit to be tugged off, exposing what effect the use of Merlin's magic has on him.

"Look at you," Merlin murmurs, "You're so hard already. You actually kind of love this, don't you?"

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur snaps through gritted teeth, his breath hitching in his chest for a second as magic wraps itself around his cock. It's like nothing he's ever experienced before; it's a warmth that can't be truly explained, and it leaves his skin buzzing with anxious sort of energy and begging for more. He gasps as it strokes on his hardened length, doing the same twist at the end of the tip that Merlin always prefers when getting him off.

It probably could be considered shameful how he's spread out, but at the moment he's past the point of caring. His back arches so much at the multitude of things being done to his already trembling body that only the balls of his feet and the back of his head remain in contact with the bedspread. He's so close to coming, and that's even before he feels tendrils of magic circling around his rim and then slowly push inside. He hisses and tenses in preparation for any discomfort, but there is nothing but a pleasant humming as he's carefully worked open.

"...Do you submit, sire?" Merlin asks roughly, and Arthur manages to swivel his head to see Merlin in a similar state of arousal. Even though he still has one hand splayed out in front of him for controlling his magic, the other has pulled down his trousers and is currently stroking his cock with the same pace and fervor that’s being used on Arthur. It’s probably the hottest thing Arthur has ever seen, and he could probably come right there just at the sight of Merlin trying to remain in control while looking so wrecked.

Some competitive streak inside Arthur wants to challenge the hold Merlin has on him, but as the magic reaches the bundle of nerves inside of him, he can’t, _he just can’t._ “Merlin,” he sobs, “I need to... Merlin, _please_!”

The answer must have been pleasing enough, for the sensation of magic being used on Arthur just _heightens_ , crashing together into one final crescendo. For a second, the rest of the world disappears as Arthur lets out a silent cry, brought back down from his euphoric high by the hot spurts of his come hitting his chest.

Merlin reaches his own climax not too long afterward, and he wobbly walks over and falls into bed face-down next to Arthur. While he knows he should be angry (livid even), Arthur is too content right now to do anything but nudge the warm body by his side. “...Are you forgetting something, _Mer_ lin?”

“Mpffh,” Merlin mumbles into the pillow, but still lifts a hand wearily and flicks it, the water basin on the nightstand wetting a cloth that floats over to tenderly wash Arthur off. When it’s done, Merlin snatches it out of mid-air to wipe himself down, leaning over to kiss the still flushed skin of Arthur’s shoulder. “Told you I could take you apart in less than one blow.”


End file.
